Yarrow & Trouble
by S.A.N.e-but-inS.A.N.e
Summary: "Immersive training is the best training, but he hadn't planned on adding GSW treatment to the list of exercises, though it is a pretty useful skill. Jack would say trouble finds him anywhere he goes, and Mac would agree this time around." In which Mac misses Jack, Riley and Bozer reassure Mac all is well, and Jack gets his jalapeno jerky. Spoilers for 3x13 (and minor for 3x11).


The yarrow goes in and his vision flickers out. He tries to muffle his cries to save Riley and Bozer the worry, but it hurts. It hurts _so much_.

He still doubts that they are one hundred percent okay. He saw the strip of Bozer's coat wrapped around Riley's leg and the slight tremble in Bozer's hands the minute he came to, their worried and exhausted features looking at him for guidance despite his obvious lack of good health.

He asked if they were okay when he felt Riley's fingers on the side of his face. He remembers that, but he's seconds away from asking them again just to reassure himself that this isn't a dream or something. He isn't quite himself at the moment, though caring about others' welfare and putting it before his own is a very Mac-like thing to do. At least according to Jack, it is.

"You have to do it tighter," he strangles out passed pent up breaths and numb lips. He kicks out with his right leg, restless, cold, dreading the oncoming pain when it already hurts like a bitch.

When he sees the cord Riley brings over, he feels like he's going to throw up, pass out, or both. Despite this, he encourages her to tie it around his leg.

He can't quite suppress the scream of pain. He hears them apologize and he tries to assuage their worry. He knows it's necessary to stop him from bleeding too much, but he'd really like to curl up and pass out now.

"Now the hard part… ge'me to a hospital." Breathless, his eyes slip shut.

He should help them. Help them figure out how to get him out of the Washington woods and back to Freddy's. Hell, he should offer to walk himself out, get himself up off his ass and prepare himself for the trek of a lifetime (other than the journey back in the deserts of Las Vegas, of course), but even his friends' worry can't stop him from escaping the pain.

With a release of breath, he slips away for a while.

* * *

He's cold and thirsty when he next wakes. He hears Bozer on the phone and suddenly there is a water bottle being shoved into his hand. It hurts to grip it with his burnt, trembling limb, but he'll take more pain for even a sip of water. It's like Vegas all over again.

What happens in Vegas apparently doesn't _stay_ in Vegas.

His leg is in agony. Close range shootings _hurt._ He guzzles the water to try and distract himself from the pain and the looks of worry pointed his way. He knows he'll probably be out of commission for a while with the way it hurts, the way he screamed. The bullet probably broke his femur, shattered it. It wouldn't hurt as much otherwise. He can just imagine the small projectile entering his flesh, tearing through the muscles, embedding itself in the shaft of the bone.

He can't think about this anymore or the cattails are going to make a reappearance.

Instead, he tries to lighten the mood by telling his friends that they passed their wilderness survival training. He attempts a smile even.

Immersive training is the best training, but he hadn't planned on adding GSW treatment to the list of exercises, though it is a pretty useful skill.

Jack would say trouble finds him anywhere he goes, and Mac would agree this time around. Jack worries too much, rants too much, reads into situations and translates meanings in his own language, but only Jack understands. Understands what it's like to be shot, what it's like to be the person someone depends on to get them out alive and how much pressure that puts on the psyche. He may go on endless rants, exaggerate and articulate his words and puns with waving hands and ridiculous expressions, but Mac misses him so much right now.

He hears chopper blades above and blinks owlishly up at the open sky. He didn't realize that much time had passed but finds himself horizontal on the homemade sled, a blanket pulled up to his chin, and Bozer, Riley, and Freddy at his side, pinched expressions stark against the bright sunlight.

His head hurts. Even Riley's trailing fingers in his hair don't help with the pain, especially in his leg. He shudders, licks his lips, and tastes blood from his split lip. He grimaces.

"It's okay Mac, just hang in there," Bozer says, eyes wide. He places a comforting hand on Mac's ankle on his good leg. "We're almost out of these woods, almost far away from those damn cattails. I'll even take hospital food over 240 sticks worth of used Q-tips." Mac knows his friend is trying to make light of the situation, get minds off the scary circumstances they find themselves in.

Like Mac's swiss army knife, Bozer's humor accompanies him everywhere. He never leaves home without it. Mac's small smile comes naturally, though a little strained, and Bozer takes it for all it's worth. Bozer goes quiet, but his shoulders sag a little in relief.

Medics now surround Mac. They check wounds and vitals, prodding at the bullet wound, and muttering among themselves. They transfer him to a backboard. It hurts. The pain ripples up his leg, twisting and stabbing until it's the only thing left.

He wants to just pass out, let everyone else figure out a solution to the problem for once, but he needs to make sure his friends are alright. Just one last time and then he can slip away for a while.

"Y'kay?" he slurs, his eyes rolling up as he feels a prick and then a cool sensation run up his arm.

"We're fine Mac. Don't worry," Riley says as they start moving to the helicopter. "We're okay. We'll be at the hospital soon."

His eyes close and he draws in a deep breath. They load him in and take off as soon as the door closes.

Mac sleeps.

* * *

When he wakes up, he's situated in a bed, IV in hand and Jack at his side. On the table next to him sits a cluster of white flowers in a small pot and a "Get Well Soon" balloon.

"So, I hear cattails taste like used Q-tips," Jack says through a mouthful of jalapeño beef jerky, "and that yarrow can be used as a gunshot wound dressing."

Mac blinks Jack into focus. He feels woozy and knows hours have passed.

"Immersive training?"

Mac allows a tiny chuckle after Jack's words resonate in his fuzzy mind.

"Of course," he croaks out.

He eventually falls asleep to Jack munching on beef jerky and vaguely hears the start of a rant about nerdy blond bomb techs finding trouble at every corner.


End file.
